Endless Dreams
by Soulfully Sadistic
Summary: Nonnie Prieron never expected to see a man with bright blue hair stuffed into a green cap with wings at her door. She never expected to see the words, "Flying Mint Bunny" in real life. And she never expected Feliciano Vargas, either. Manualfic
1. And So Begins the Chaos

Chapter 1:

Nonnie Tierney Prieron was, in all simplicity, a restless girl. She fidgeted, she twiddled, she twitched—anything to keep from being completely still. She would twist her fiery red curls round and round, until they were even curlier than before, giving her a rather frazzled look. She would adjust and readjust her glasses over and over again, kick her feet back and forth, run her tongue over her teeth millions of times "just to get the feel of them".

She rarely ever looked at one place for more than ten seconds. She always seemed to take things in rather _hungrily_ as if she would never be able to see again. Random outbursts were most definitely not uncommon, and usually they would be pretend-words. Made up. Fictional.

Her friends were the air, the sky, the ground, the cushions on the couch; anything. School and social life had almost no meaning to her. It could even be as if they didn't exist.

Until she discovered Hetalia.

All of a sudden, her ever-moving pupils were fixated onto the computer screen, completely eating up the vivacious colors, bold humor, and exciting characters. Her kicking feet rested exactly two and a half inches above the floor, and her fidgeting hand was poised solely upon her mouse, ready to click to the next episode. Where her mouth had been twitching constantly, torn between a smile and a frown, there was now a ghost of a grin adorning her small, carefully crafted features.

Her parents were rarely ever home, preferring to go on wild exhibitions to exotic places like Africa and Asia, leaving their thirteen-going-on-fourteen-year-old daughter in the comforts of her home, a small apartment in the middle of downtown New York.

Instant Ramen had become a staple in her diet, and even though she could cook, and was pretty good at it, she rarely ever did, instead enjoying the three-minute Heaven-in-a-cup she so often ate.

Now, Nonnie, had a habit of clicking anything that caught her eye while on the computer. For example, there was the instance where she had clicked on an IQ test, only to find it was nothing more than an internet scam. Many more of these cases happened, and Nonnie never seemed to learn from them.

So it was naturally no surprise that she clicked on a pop-up that said, "Free Hetalia Units!"

Although, it _was_ a surprise when, instead of a bunch of ads, a message saying, "Congratulations! Your unit will arrive in 1-3 business days!"

Nonnie blinked. She hadn't even entered her address, much less her personal information. Shaking her head, figuring it was a scam, she exited out the window and resumed watching Hetalia.

Two days passed without a hitch, and Nonnie was becoming increasingly bored. Even though she knew the pop-up was a scam, she kept wishing and wishing with all her heart that it wouldn't be. She lay upside-down on the couch, tapping her fingers over her stomach, and trying to see how long she could stay that way without fainting.

Just as the blood started rushing to her head, the sound of a doorbell piercing the endless vacuum of silence startled her, and she fell, legs first, onto the ground.

Nonnie picked herself up, rubbing her head as she made her way towards the door. Upon opening said door, the first thing she laid eyes on was a man. With electric-blue tufts of hair sticking out from a green cap with green wings on the sides.

She also noticed a giant crate next to him. "C-can I help you?" she asked, biting her lip. She wasn't very good with other people.

The man grinned radiantly. "I'm guessing you're Nonnia Prieron, right? I've got your Hetalia unit here for you." Quickly he shoved a paper upon a clipboard into her hands.

Feeling flustered, Nonnie took the offered pen and signed her name in messy cursive. "Please…just call me Nonnie. And don't I have to pay?"

The man's smile did not waver. "Of course not," he said, "You won this." Without another word, he began to push the crate into her living room, leaving Nonnie to wonder for the first time how he had even been able to fit the box in the elevator, anyway.

As the man left, he shoved a paper into her hands. "You'll need this," he murmured, his voice dropping slightly into a warning tone, and he left quickly, without even another word, not even a goodbye.

Which left Nonnie standing in the middle of her living room, in front of a giant box, holding a paper. She shuffled around for a second, shifted her weight from toe to toe, wondering what to do. After a few minutes of just standing there, she decided it would be best to look at the manual.

And she could do nothing but breathe in sharply when she saw the words:

FELICIANO VARGAS: User Guide and Manual


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Nonnie stood, unable to move, staring at the box in front of her. Feliciano Vargas? As in Italy? From Hetalia?

She couldn't help rereading the words over and over again. Shakily she moved to sit upon the worn-out couch, hearing the small creak as her weight pushed down on it. She held up the paper to her nose and readjusted her glasses. She had to focus on Getting Italy out of there. It probably wasn't comfortable.

Nonnie was surprised at the light-heartedness the manual had, as if it had been written by someone with experience.

With a shudder, she skipped "Length" and went about trying to wake up her unit.

Boil water?

Touch his curl and risk threat to her life?

Simply open the box?

With a small grimace, Nonnie stood, making her way through the mess of bubble wrap to get to the kitchen. Opening the cupboard, she dug relentlessly through all the kitchen utensils to finally find a pot. She moved slowly; calmly, as if she was in shock—which she arguably was. To get a person in a box? And an anime character at that? Preposterous!

She turned the faucet and watched dully as the water piled into the pot until it was halfway, and then she stopped. She placed the pot on the stove and turned on the heater, letting out a bated breath as she plopped down on the ground, utterly drained.

Just as she was about to close her eyes and succumb to a well-earned sleep, she heard a knocking—no, a pounding coming from the living room. Reluctantly, she stood, moving on wobbly legs to the living room to investigate.

Sure enough, she saw the box moving back and forth as the pounding grew only louder.

And then it stopped.

A slightly small voice said, "Ve~…it's dark in here!"

Ignoring her pounding heart, Nonnie stepped closer to the box. "…Hello?" she called, feeling strange. She _was_ talking to a box, after all.

"Hello," a voice said pleasantly.

Okay. So he was still there.

"Um…do you need help getting out of there?"

"Yes, please!" There was a little bit more shuffling.

"Okay…I'm going to open it," Nonnie said cautiously. "Stay still."

With deft, long fingers, Nonnie fingered her way around the cracks, peeling away the wood one plank at a time. When she had finished, and was finally able to peer in, her eyes were met by what had exactly been her fears—and maybe anticipation.

She was so shocked that she almost didn't feel it when the red-haired Italian aerial-glomped her. She was so shocked that she almost didn't feel it when she slammed into the ground, getting the wind knocked out of her.

She almost didn't feel it when he kissed her on both cheeks.

Wait. _What?_

"Ah…a-ah…." Nonnie could barely even tumble out coherent words. All she could do was stand, and stare, completely frozen, as the carefree Italian—or _Hetalian_—pranced around her living room.

"Ve~… You have a really nice place!" Italy said, nodding in approval, as if he had been appraising the house.

"Uh…I…thank you…" Nonnie was still rubbing her cheeks, in obvious disbelief. A blush was spreading like a wildfire across her face. "But…why…why did you kiss me?"

"Hm?" Feliciano looked over to her blankly. Then, a big grin spread across his face. "Why would I not?"

And then he pranced off, leaving an utterly disoriented Nonnie in his wake.

She slumped onto the couch once more, the manual falling to the floor. She took a glance at the clock on the desk beside it, the numbers reading: 3:00.

Three o' clock PM already? Had time passed so quickly? And she had school tomorrow, too. Well, there went half of her free-day. "Faguarbles," she muttered under her breath.

After nearing tearing the house apart looking for them, Nonnie settled on the floor near the small, boxy TV to play her videogames. Her fingers danced across the controls, not even hesitating to press the right button. Faster and faster, her eyes becoming set onto the screen. Boss level. She'd never beaten it before.

She leaned her head forward, hands in a frenzy, going faster than ever. _She was going to win! She was going to—_

Wait.

She'd never seen a mop of red hair in the game before. With a curl sticking out.

Nonnie let out a cry of disbelief as Italy blocked her screen. She felt her heart plummet as she heard the all-too-familiar "game over" sound.

"Italy!" she cried, the controller dropping from her hands. "Why did you do that? Graptles!"

Italy just gave a big, oblivious smile. "Pasta's ready," he said happily.

* * *

><p>"I love you too, Mom," Nonnie signed off Skype dutifully, and sighed. She turned around in her swivel chair, only to find Italy's concerned face staring back at her.<p>

"What'sa wrong?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

Forcing a grin onto her face, Nonnie nodded maybe a little too vigorously. "Of course I am!" she said. "It's just…" Nonnie trailed off, her head turning to the side just a little bit, trying to avoid eye contact with the Italian.

"It's just what? Ve…you shouldn't hide your emotions like that." Italy moved into her line of vision, opening his eyes. Nonnie could see that they weren't really brown, yet they weren't really yellow. They were honey-colored. Nonnie liked honey.

"I…I just miss my mom a little, that's all," Nonnie muttered, her voice breaking a little. "It's been really, really long since I last saw her…since I hugged…"

Without another word, the Italian wrapped his arms around Nonnie's small body, one hand supporting the back of her head as if she were a mere child. Nonnie let out a choked sound of protest, and tried to wriggle away, but Italy's arms were strong and wouldn't let go.

"You shouldn't hide your emotions…" Italy murmured again, and as if on cue, Nonnie began to cry wildly into his chest. The tears that had been held in for so many years easily slid out, as if they were meant to be like that. It felt as it a tightness in her chest had been lifted and loosened, like braces being removed.

Italy moved to sit on the floor, still holding Nonnie against him. "Cry as much as you want," he said; even in his seriousness a bit of cheerfulness still remained. "I-I don't like seeing people sad. It makes me sad, too, ve~."

Through her tears, Nonnie allowed herself a small smile. She sniffled a snuggled herself a little more into Italy's chest. He smelled of pasta and of flour and baking and honey—and it was such a comforting smell that Nonnie allowed herself to finally relax, and let the sweet feeling of unconsciousness overtake her.

She missed her mother, no doubt about that. But she had a feeling, a sneaking suspicion, that things were going to be okay.

And so they were.

**What did you think? Good? Bad? So bad you wanted to scoop your eyes out with a spoon? Please tell me! And please give me ideas on what character I should use next. Thank you!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

**AN: Just a little note before the story. I've noticed people say, "I'd of" instead of "I'd have". That's BAD. GRAMMAR. It's "I would have," not, "I would of". It's been pissing me the freak off and you guys need to learn it. Okay? Okay. I'm just saying. Because, if you guys are going to be natives to your own language, at least SPEAK it correctly.**

* * *

><p>Nonnie awoke feeling warm and fuzzy. Not just on the inside, strangely, but on the outside, too. It felt as if she had taken a warm, <em>warm<em> bath, and then had steaming hot chocolate afterwards.

Nonnie felt content to snuggle back into whatever she had been sleeping in, until she noticed something.

She was _not_ lying down.

She was _not_ in a blanket.

And she'd be darned if this wasn't Italy she was clutching so tightly.

With an embarrassed gasp, Nonnie practically flew away from the man's grip. After hyperventilating for a few seconds in the corner, a closer look showed her that Italy was still asleep, obviously having not been affected by her earlier spaztic seizure. To her shock (and slight amusement), there was a small snot bubble enlarging and shrinking with every breath he took.

Nonnie stepped into her shower, her hands reaching and finding the familiar shower knob, and turning it. As she expected, warm water came raining down upon her, flattening her red curls against her head. Maybe she should straighten her hair today? That would be a change. It wasn't like anybody noticed her, anyways.

She thought about maybe changing her hairstyle, her clothes. Maybe wearing different shoes, even, instead of those dingy sneakers she had on so often. Maybe she's exchange her dirty old white T-shirt for that pretty blue blouse at the back of her closet, the one her mother had bought her before and she had never worn.

But why was she making such a change?

Was it because of Italy? She scoffed mentally. What effect would Italy be having on her?

What Nonnie didn't know was that the presence of another being in the house made her more self-conscious, more wanting to please. Nonnie was the kind of kid who wanted to make everyone happy, and since she had been living alone up until that point, she hadn't really had anyone to please. Now that Italy was here, she felt she had a goal set up—something that had expectations. And she was determined to meet them.

Or it could be something else entirely.

Either way, Nonnie most definitely wasn't going to school like she usually did. She was going to change.

After mowing through countless clothes (which Italy _still_ managed to sleep through) Nonnie didn't find the blouse, but she was able to find a nice red camisole and a white cardigan, with some decent (decent meaning NOT in tatters) jeans and flip-flops. A failed attempt at straightening her hair left it longer than usual, wavy, and far different from usual. Nonnie had actually jumped a little when she saw herself in the mirror.

Would her mom be proud of her?

Would she ever do this again?

For a moment, Nonnie simply stood, looking at herself in the mirror. Everything seemed to stop, and for a moment she saw her mother in the mirror instead of herself. She saw how much she looked like her now, with her coppery hair and her blue eyes. She saw that without her usual disheveled, crazy look…Nonnie could actually be nice-looking. Pretty even. Unconsciously, her hand reached up and grasped her glasses, slowly slipping them off her nose to reveal big, blue orbs.

Nonnie gasped, and choked a little bit on the air. The image of her mother disappeared, and she fumbled, quickly shoved her glasses on, slightly askew. A glance at the clock on her desk told her that if she didn't start moving her lazy butt, she'd be trying to sneak in unnoticed during attendance. Again.

Not bothering with breakfast, Nonnie ran, or rather, hopped, out the door. She hoped with all her might that she might make it on time.

* * *

><p>Nonnie slumped against her locker, completely worn out. And <em>hungry<em>. She'd managed to make it to class, by the skin of a tooth. Now, first period was over, and the repercussions of her earlier actions were beginning to set in. She rubbed her rumbling tummy and hoped that lunch would come soon.

What was she thinking?

Of course it _never_ came soon enough.

She peeled herself off of her locker and began to trudge towards class, when she heard an all-too-familiar, "Ve~" in the distance.

Nonnie frowned, looking behind her. She didn't see anything, so she dismissed it as her stomach playing tricks on her.

Then she heard it again. Louder. Nonnie turned around completely, and choked on air as she saw Italy, dressed in only a white shirt and boxers, holding a lunchbox and standing in the middle of the hallway. "_Sorella~!"_ He was calling, "You forgot your breakfast!" His golden eyes opened and he "ve'd" happily when he saw her.

He skipped—freaking _skipped_—to her, holding up the lunch box. "Here you go!" he said.

Nonnie was pretty sure she looked like a blushing red tomato. "Th—thank you…" she murmured, reaching out to take it. But before she could, Italy snatched it away.

"Uh-uh-uh…" he said. "I have to make sure you eat it!"

Since when was Italy this evil…?

Italy knelt down and began unpacking the contents of the bag. He then produced a spoon and some yogurt. "Say ah~" he grinned.

"Wh-what?"

"Say ah, silly!"

She was never going to live this down. She could feel the stares of everybody in the hallway upon her. The bell rang, and nobody made a move to leave. Italy was still staring at her expectantly.

"A-ah?" What else could she do?

"Ve~!" Italy happily began to feed her the food, tutting and tsk-ing and making sure not a drop fell onto her clothes.

Once it was finally, _finally_ over, Italy cooed happily, cleaned up the mess, and left as quickly as he came with a careless, "_Ciao, Sorella!"_ over his shoulder.

Nonnie sank helplessly down to her knees, unable to stand.

What else could she do?

**A/N: And there's the third chapter! Sorry it took so long; school is sucking the life out of me -.-. Oh, well, what can you do? XD Enjoy!**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

**I can see you guys. I can SEE the hits. WHY AREN'T YOU REVIEWING? (angstily falls into a heap of tears) But…but…I WILL persevere! I WILL write this fic even if nobody reviews! (is shamelessly abusing the guilt-trip technique)**

**Warning: This chapter contains potty mouth on Romano's part, words that I would rather not say (read: words that my mom would never let me say, lest my hide be tanned).**

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><p>Nonnie sighed out of her nose, gathering up all her books and supplies, ready to go home for the day. It had been tiring, to say the least, and the shocked stares from practically everyone the rest of the day didn't help. At all.<p>

She was making her way out of the door, when a hand grabbed hers, successfully pulling her back and hindering her from leaving. Nonnie was gently turned around, and the first thing she saw was brown. Dark, pretty brown.

Nonnie furrowed her eyebrows as the brown moved back to reveal whites, and eventually a face. The face of a _boy_. Nonnie gasped, her lips parting a little; she felt her face flush even brighter than her red hair. "U-um…" she stammered, "Did you need something?" She inwardly winced. She needed to start getting better around other people.

The boy grinned smoothly, and instantly, Nonnie recognized him. This was Evan Runners. The best on the football team and the apple of almost every girl's eye. To be truthful, Nonnie had never really noticed him before, but now that she saw him up close, she realized he was good-looking. Like, really, really good-looking.

"Actually," he said, "I'd kind of like to know who that guy was earlier."

Nonnie was practically melting at the sound of his voice. "Th-that guy…?" Oh! He must mean Italy. "Um...he was Ita—Feliciano. My…big….brother. Yeah."

Evan's smile grew. "Well, I was wondering. Would your brother like me hanging around you? You know, _with_ you?"

"I—I don't know. Why?"

Suddenly, Nonnie stiffened as he leaned in closer, and put his mouth to her ear. "Nonnia. I'd like to go out with you."

* * *

><p>Nonnie swung open the door. "Italy, I'm back!" She heard a slight scuffling, and quick Italian. That was weird. It sounded like <em>two<em> people talking. She then heard a loud laugh, a loud, _obnoxious_ laugh.

Nonnie dropped her bag and hurried to the kitchen to investigate.

Nonnie decided to take this situation as calmly as possible.

Okay.

There were _two_ Italies. TWO ITALIES. WHY?

Oh, but that wasn't all. With them, there was a blond, burger-eating, glasses wearing man.

"Italy…?" Nonnie's voice quivered, like she was about to cry or have a mental breakdown (or both). "Why are Romano and America here?" everything just seemed to stop when she said this, and the three nations turned simultaneously to look at her.

Italy was the first to break the silence. "See, Romano? That's _Sorella!_ Say hi, _sorella!_"

Before Nonnie could say anything (and it most certainly wasn't going to be "Hi"), America burst into laughter, saying, "Hello, my citizen! The hero America has graced you with his amazing presence!" He then began to rattle off a list of his favorite foods, favorite heroes, et cetera.

"_Chigi!_" Romano muttered angrily. "You think you're _so_ great, don't you, bastard?"

America simply laughed again. "I don't _think_ I'm great!" he assured. "I know I'm great!" Romano's face heated up angrily and he made to lunge for him, but Nonnie jumped in the way, short arms spread out.

"Please, no violence in the apartment..." What she had hoped would be an authoritative command had turned out as a small meek-sounding request. But, at the moment, Nonnie would like nothing more than to bash herself over the head with a large, preferably blunt object.

She looked pleadingly to Italy for support, but the nation was already in the kitchen, singing a happy tune about pasta.

"Yeah!" Suddenly, America grabbed her by the torso, and lifted her up onto his shoulders. "Listen to my citizen!"

"Ha!" Romano growled. "Italy was here first! That means that this house has been conquered by Italians! And _that_ means she's _my_ citizen!" He roughly grabbed Nonnie's arm and yanked her off America's shoulders. Before Nonnie could even shriek, she was in Romano's arms, being "hugged" protectively.

America then proceeded to go into a lengthy tale about how heroic he was, and how he had full ownership over Nonnie. Nonnie, of course, was too busy having her lungs crushed flat to care. She wriggled out of Romano's grasp, and finally was able to breathlessly say, "How about you guys share the house?"

They were to be her most regretted words of her life.

Tape. Tape _everywhere_. Both America and Romano had torn up the house, declaring what was theirs and what only they could use. America had scribbled his name all over his "land", and Romano had placed smears of tomato sauce on his. "Don't cross this tape!" they both commanded each other, and Nonnie was beginning to wonder if suicide really _was_ the answer.

"Haha!" America laughed loudly, and plopped down on the couch, picking up the remote.

"Hey!" Romano nearly screeched. "Bastard, that's _my_ territory!"

America gave a cheeky grin. "Couch is uncharted territory~!" he sang, leaving Romano to sputter angrily about how unfair America was being, and how he was going to sue his ass if he didn't stop being a (all together now) bastard.

Nonnie felt faint. Really, _really_ faint. As in, I'm-gonna-pass-out faint. She felt a little bit shaky, too, but she figured it was just part of the stress. Understandably.

She leaned against the wall, as if unable to balance on her own two feet any longer, and slowly slid to the floor, sitting down roughly. She thought of earlier today, the crushing words flitting clearly through her mind: _Nonnia. I'd like to go out with you_. She unconsciously sighed, running a hand through her hair, which was now beginning to frizz back to normal. Why would he choose her? Out of all people, out of all the pretty girls in the world, why her?

It seemed as if her life had simply become one big fat soap opera. She smiled grimly.

"Nonnie! Hey, hey, kid! Are you listening?"

Nonnie jerked her head up. "Huh? I-I'm sorry, what was that?"

Romano straightened up in front of her, arms crossed. "I was asking if you were okay. You looked like you just saw America eat burgers for the first time."

"Hey!"

America trudged over, looking ready to bash Romano over the head with a chair. His face changed when he saw Nonnie, though, his eyebrows furrowing together to look incredibly concerned. He knelt down in front of her. "Nonnie. Are…are you shaking?"

Italy poked his head out of the kitchen. Bad timing on his part, but he asked anyway, "Why did everything go all quiet? Is everything alright?" His hazel eyes were open, and Nonnie couldn't help but foggily think about how nice they looked. The blue and the brown were nice, too, but they seemed to be all mixing into one another.

"Nonnie? _Nonnie?_" America grew increasingly agitated as Nonnie's eyes began to close. "_Nonnie!"_

"Don't just sit there! Call an ambulance!" Nonnie heard garbled words, tripping and mixing into each other until they were barely recognizable. _Why are they so worried?_ She wondered. _I'm just feeling a little bit weak. I'll be better soon…_

She heard the words grow louder in volume as her eyes slipped closed. _All I need is a little nap…_

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><p><strong>Haha! Revenge for not reviewing! What, you think I was gonna let that go? Pshaw. <strong>

**Anyways, I've noticed about myself that I tend to make the faces that the characters in my stories are making when I'm writing them. So half the time I'm wearing a confused look and then at the end of this chapter I looked ready to fall asleep. El-oh-el.**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

***le gasp***

**You guys DID review! :D I'm so happy! *Squeals* Okay. How about this. 1****st****, 2****nd****, and 3****rd**** reviewers on this chapter gets to choose which Hetalia character comes next, OR they can create an OC, OR, they can tell me what they want to happen next. Awesome, right? (is getting a big head…)**

**By the way, sorry I didn't upload this sooner. My computer was being a poopyhead...**

* * *

><p><em> Beep.<em>

_ Beep._

_ Beep._

Voices. Nonnie could hear voices. And she could hear slow, steady beeping. Even beeping. It calmed her down slightly. She felt a small gust of cold air, and a hushed silence grew as the voices shrank into nothing.

Then she heard another voice.

"Nonnie? Can you hear me? Ve… Squeeze your fist if you can."

Yes. Nonnie could hear. So she _wasn't_ dead. The voice sounded familiar. Slowly, she closed her fist and opened it again.

She heard a short laugh of joy, and then a grunt. A deeper, gruffer voice said, "Hey, kid. Are you hurt anywhere? I'm not gonna have to deal with a cripple, am I?"

"Romano!"

If Nonnie could chuckle, she would. She squeezed her fist again. Why were her eyes so heavy? It felt as if someone had laid a truck on her face or something. She opened her mouth—just a slight parting of her lips—and tried to say _anything._ Maybe ask for some water. Her throat was awfully dry. Or maybe she could get someone to help her OPEN HER EYES.

Instead, she croaked out, "'Ere 'm I?"

Another voice, albeit soft and a little choked up, said, "You're in the hospital." Wait a minute. Was this _America_ speaking? The loud and boisterous one? And yet here he was, seeming as if he had been traumatized or something.

Nonnie felt bad. Had she really made them worry so much?

She felt like a little kid again, on the verge of tears. Why wasn't anyone telling her what was going on?

She tried once more to open her eyes, and this time they flew easily open, and a burst of white shone into her retina immediately. She blinked once, twice, three times to get used to it.

She wasn't wearing her glasses. Okay.

She turned her head, ever so slightly, to see America, who looked as if he was torn between cracking a joke and breaking down, Italy, who looked like he was going to cry, and Romano, who looked as if he was about to pound Nonnie into dust for worrying him. Nonnie was just so happy she could see again, that she didn't even care that she was in the hospital, or even why.

Wait.

She was in the hospital.

Why?

She slowly reached up a shaking hand to her face, only to find she couldn't feel her mouth, because there was a mask over it, an oxygen mask. "'Why'm I here?"

"You don't remember?" Italy questioned softly, putting a hand over her stomach, as if to calm her down. "You fainted earlier, ve~. The doctor put you through a lot of tests, and they're going to tell us the results soon."

Exhausted, Nonnie nodded. Feebly, she moved both hands out from under the sheets.

She only fell asleep when she felt warm hands take hold of them.

* * *

><p>"Did you have breakfast?"<p>

"Yes."

"Did you check your glucose?"

"Uh-huh."

"How was your blood sugar?"

"110."

"Did you pack your snack?"

"_Yes_."

England sighed. "I'm only worried about you, Nonnie." Yes, England had been delivered while Nonnie was in the hospital, and the other three nations had had to open him up before Nonnie was released from the hospital. From what Nonnie had heard, they'd filled him in on her current state, and when she came home, he was like an overprotective mother, breathing down her neck at every possible moment, and making sure she didn't keel over or anything. In fact, all of her "brothers" had been doing that. Heck, they'd even been there to pick her up from school!

While their gestures were greatly appreciated, Nonnie found she couldn't find time to speak to Evan outside of school. She still hadn't quite accepted his request, though she hadn't rejected it either.

She wasn't even sure the nations would approve, either. Ever since she'd been in the hospital.

Ever since she had been diagnosed with hypoglycemia.

To tell the truth, not very many things were different. Of course, she had to deal with her bawling mother over Skype, and swear on her grandmother's grave that she would be fine alone, and there were the daily glucose tests she did on herself every morning, but things were the same.

You know. If you didn't count the four hot nations currently living in her house.

But that's not important.

"I'm going to school," she called out.

"I'll take you!" America offered immediately. He ran to her, shoved her lunchbox into her hands, and they were both out of the house before Nonnie could say, "I'll be fine".

America was oddly silent on the way. Nonnie guessed he was feeling it was his fault that she had fainted earlier. To be truthful, Nonnie didn't really blame anyone. In fact, it was kind of a good thing that she fainted when she did, or else worse things might have happened. And, God knows where things would spiral from there.

"Uh, America"—

"Hey, Nonnie"—

There was an awkward jumbling of words as each tried to get the other to speak first. Eventually, it got them nowhere, and they once again lapsed into another uncomfortable silence, feeling as if something had been left incomplete. Nonnie wanted so much to try and make America feel better, to tell him it wasn't his fault, and that it was inevitable anyways. Now, if only she could get that jumbled mess to spill out of her mouth in coherent words, they would be golden. She stole a glance at America, who was walking stiffly, and chewing on his lip every few seconds or so.

When she saw his blue eyes make contact with her own, Nonnie blushed brightly and looked away. "I—I think we're here," she mumbled quietly.

"Yeah…" America said.

None of them made to move.

After a few seconds, Nonnie was going to step away, but America grabbed her shoulder. "Um. Nonnie?"

Nonnie turned her head around. "Y-yes?"

America fidgeted a little before saying, "I just want you to know that I….even though I haven't known you for long, I care about you. Um. Okay? So…if you're ever in any trouble, or if you want help…just know I'm gonna be there. I'll be your hero. Okay?"

Before Nonnie could say anything else, America was gone, jogging back down the streets. It was all she could do not to just faint right there on the spot.

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah, fail ending, I know. -.- …I'm SUPPOSED to be writing an essay right now, LOL. But, whatever. Anyway, please review! Reviews are my anti-drug. (obvious reference is obvious)<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

**...Wow, guys. Thanks for reviewing (sarcasm). You make me feel SO special.**

**LOL. My offer still stands, though. If you are the first, second, or third reviewer on one of these chapters, you can make an OC, request what will happen next, or choose which Hetalia character can come in next.**

Nonnie reclined on the old, creaky couch, flattened and well-loved by many years of use, kicking her legs back and forth in rhythm with the sound of the clock ticking. Bored eyes watched America and Romano wrestle each other back and forth while England yelled many gentlemanly profanities and Italy simply stood, looking insanely happy. This constant ruckus had become a part of Nonnie by now, and, actually, it was a little bit endearing. It made the place a little more like a home than it was when it was almost completely devoid of life, save for Nonnie.

Although they were a bit crazy, and silly, they were always there to take care of her. England was there with his constant mothering and America was there with his overprotectiveness. Romano was there with silent care, and Italy, well, he had enough hugs to make _anyone_ happy.

Going to the doctor for checkups was regular now, almost every other week. The nations would argue about whose turn it would be to take Nonnie those days, making them possibly some of the most violent days among all the others. It never really went too far, though, and nobody really got hurt (at least, not TOO bad), so Nonnie was fine with it.

Now, answering the door was a whole different thing.

Since Nonnie was pretty weak (even she had to admit it), she couldn't protect herself as much as she would like. This made the Nations and impenetrable bodyguard against any possible "rapists" or "murderers", when it was really just some poor pizza guy or mailman who simply knocked on the wrong door. Fortunately, though, Italy was always there to distract them long enough to prevent any true problems, but it was still quite an inconvenience, both to the victim _and _to Nonnie.

None of this really interfered with Nonnie's personal life, though. At least, until a certain someone rang the doorbell.

Nonnie jumped as she heard the faint, "_Ding-dong"_ of her old door bell. There was a small moment of silence as all of the people present looked at each other.

A unanimous, "I'LL get it!" rang through the apartment as they all scrambled over each other to get the door. Eventually, America, with his awesome strength, won out, and opened the door, his grin never fading.

"Um, hi. I'd like to see Nonnie?"

America finally looked down at the visitor, and Nonnie was shock at how quickly his face morphed into a grim glare. But it couldn't even compare to the shock she felt when she saw who exactly the visitor was.

It was none other than Evan Runners.

**Ha! Once again, revenge for not reviewing. Pfft. But, anyway, enjoy this short chapter! :D**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

**Awesome! More people reviewed!**

**It looks like Blarmey-Imp, Urd-10, and Chikako won the prize! Congratulations! You guys get to either submit an OC, request what will happen next, or choose which Hetalia character comes next.**

**...Or see an excerpt of the next chapter.**

**(Is TOTALLY not whoring out her chapters for the sake of reviews)**

**Others can still participate though! Just be the first, second, or third reviewer on this chapter.**

Never in her life had Nonnie wanted to throw a tantrum more than now.

At the moment, she was squeezed between Romano and Evan on the couch, both of whom were giving death glares to each other over her head. America stood off to the side, arms folded, face grim as he watched. Italy had disappeared somewhere into the kitchen. _Lucky,_ Nonnie thought. He always got to escape.

Currently the boxy, old TV was showing a G-rated film (Nations' choice, of course), and all of them were currently watching Evan and Nonnie with crushing scrutiny. If Evan so much as _held_ _her hand_, he'd probably be pounded into mincemeat.

Nonnie wanted to scream. They were thirteen (almost fourteen)! It wasn't like they were going to start having sex or something. At least…she hoped not. She groaned. What an impression she was making on the _most popular guy at school_.

"Hey," Evan hissed into her ear, "Why don't we go over to my house later?"

"I"—

"No whispering," Romano growled. "Anything you say should be able to be heard by us." He glared at Evan. "Unless…you were saying something inappropriate?"

Evan smirked right back at him, casually putting his arm around Nonnie's shoulders. Nonnie could feel her face blush as bright red as her hair. "Oh, no, of course not. I was just talking to my _girlfriend_." Nonnie felt him pull her closer to his own body.

"Bastard!" Romano hissed, jumping up.

Seeing as things could get incredibly violent, Nonnie shouted out, "Um…why don't we all get something to eat now?"

Nonnie almost sighed with relief as Italy popped out of the kitchen. "The pasta's ready!"

Slowly and reluctantly, Romano and Evan stood up from the couch, both warily watching each other, as if they were going to jump at each other at any moment. Nonnie waited until they were both out of sight, and once they were both gone, she slumped into the couch. Some "date" this was turning out to be. Could it even be _considered_ a date?

She jumped as Romano poked his head out again, still scowling. "Oi, Kid. Get in here. 'M hungry and I don't wanna wait."

"…Coming," Nonnie called weakly, making no move to get up. "Just go ahead and start eating without me."

"Oh, no, you don't," Arthur poked his head out as well. "It's been at least two hours since you've last eaten. Your blood sugar might be low and nobody wants you fainting on us again." His thick eyebrows drew together in concern. "You're sure you're alright?"

"Oh, yeah," Nonnie said flippantly. She stood up abruptly, to show that she could stand. "You see? Tip-top shape!"

"Uh-huh." Romano rolled his eyes, "Just get in here, _sorella_."

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"Wow!" Evan exclaimed. "This is really good! You're amazing, Feliciano!"

"Really?" Italy was practically _basking_ in the praise. "Well, I try!"

Nonnie had to admit that the pasta was good—really good. No matter how many times she'd had it, it still felt as if she would melt into it or something. It was giving her a happier mood, and she looked over to America to see if he was feeling better, too.

No. He was not.

The grim line on his face had barely lifted, and his line of deadly vision was pointed at Evan, as if he wished Evan would fall through a hole connecting straight to Hell. Nonnie was only glad that the glare wasn't pointed directly at her; it looked as if America was about to take out a rifle and shoot the boy down.

Of course, it wasn't like Evan was completely helpless. He was glaring right back at the American, having diverted his attention from the Italian.

Nonnie could nearly feel the tension weighing down upon her.

It _sucked_.

"H-how about we all play a game?" Nonnie suggested, trying to break the tension.

"Twister!" All but Italy and Nonnie demanded immediately. It seemed they were all eager to crush each other. Then again, Nonnie wouldn't really put it past them.

"I'll get it!" Italy volunteered.

"I-I'll come with you!" Anything to escape this dumpster-fire.

"I'll go too!" Evan said quickly.

"The hero will go!"

"Che. You bastard. I'll go too."

"Ve~! It'll be like a closet party!"

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

And that is how Nonnie ended up crammed into a closet with three nations and a boy, looking desperately for a board game.

It just now occurred to her that she needed friends.

FEMALE friends.

She dug through old newspapers, journals, blankets, stuffed animals she didn't even know she HAD—

"Hey! I found some baby pictures of _sorella_, ve~!"

"NO!" Nonnie screeched, diving for Italy in the darkness, but she ended up tackling Evan instead. Evan, on the other hand, had found the Twister game, and as Nonnie landed on him, he was abruptly standing up. This caused both of the teenagers to fall unceremoniously on their backs.

America, in a mad dash for the pictures, barreled into Italy, and Romano (who had just happened to be at the wrong spot at the wrong time) was sent toppling over as Italy fell from America's impact.

Result: Scattered baby pictures and bruises that would hurt in the morning.

But overall?

A completely and totally ruined "date".

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"B-bye, Evan…" Nonnie and the other nations stood at the door, Evan just outside, ready to leave.

Evan grinned. "I had a great time," he said winningly, smirking at the nations behind the girl, who scowled. Then, shoving his hand into his pocket, he produced a yellow post-it note and a pen. He scribbled something down onto it and pressed it into Nonnie's hand. He leaned into her, and whispered in her ear, "So we can have a real date."

He left Nonnie a spluttering, stuttering, sweating mess.

She clutched her fist closed, unsure of what to do or say.

She could vaguely hear the nations exchanging high-fives and laughing about their "conquering" over Evan.

And it all seemed to bubble over.

Furiously, she turned around on her heel, anger written all her face. "You…you…" she shook with fury. "You big MEANIES!"

She pushed past them, running to her room and slamming to door shut. She stuffed her face into her pillow, wishing she could just wither away and die.

It was only a few hours later, after they had all retired for the night, that Nonnie looked at the note.

Upon it was Evan's number, scribbled in blue ink.

**Oh GEEZ I'm so sorry. My aunt came down with an immune disorder and we're all doing our best to support her. She's lot a lot of weight, and it's really taken a toll on her. But she's feeling better.**

**Like I said at the beginning, thought, congratulations, Blarmey-Imp, Urd-10, and Chikako!**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

**And, OH MY GOSH. I TOTALLY forgot about England in that last chapter! Um…let's just say he was out getting groceries, shall we? Eheheh… (shot by millions of England fan girls)**

**(is shot, then beaten to death with spleen) Okay…I guess I deserved tha—Hey! Who threw that tomato?**

**I'm really, REALLY sorry, you guys. This story kinda floated out of my peripheral and I became SWAMPED with stuff to do.**

* * *

><p>Nonnie tugged the brush through her (now straightened) hair once more for good measure. She straightened her jeans jacket, tugged on her frilly pink camisole underneath, and shifted in her skinny jeans, her feet clad in ankle-length boots.<p>

She looked to France, who had just arrived yesterday. "…Are you sure these clothes are fine…?" she wondered. "Don't you think they're a little…flashy?"

"Oh, _non, non, ma cherie,_" France exclaimed, with great drama. "It's perfect, _oui_?"

"Hmph," England growled begrudgingly, from somewhere off to the side, "Normally I wouldn't agree, but I have to say it looks rather nice on you."

"The hero thinks it looks _great!_"

"Che. Better than nothing, _sorella_."

"Ve~! It looks really really pretty!"

Nonnie stood, blushing. "Thanks, you guys…"

After finally making up with the nations (it had only been a few minutes before Nonnie's pathetic willpower crumbled), all of them—including France—had been working hard to please her, even Romano. Breakfast in bed, candy (after England checked her blood sugar, of course), and even helping her dress for her date with Evan.

A REAL date with Evan.

Squeal.

She was fiddling with her hair once more when the sound of her old, faded doorbell rang through the apartment. She scrambled to the door, still unable to walk properly in her high heels, and grasped the handle, twisting it and pulling.

And there stood her date.

Wearing a tuxedo.

SQUEAL.

For a moment, Nonnie was practically speechless. "Y-you came…" she murmured, breathlessly.

"Yeah," Evan chuckled, never missing a beat. "I did." Cautiously peering at the nations behind her (Nonnie could care less at the moment), Evan carefully held out his hand, a white-toothed grin spreading across his face. He bent down a little, looking up at her, his teeth just a _little_ too pointed. "Madam…?"

Nonnie gasped inaudibly, but shakily put her small hand into his bigger one. His smile growing even larger, he pulled her towards him, putting his arm around her waist. Ignoring the growls and whistles from behind her, Nonnie allowed Evan to lead her to the car.

Which wasn't really a car.

It was a _limousine._

Nonnie felt like a princess.

She sat down comfortably in the dark seats and breathed in the new smell of fresh leather. She grinned even wider as Even slid in next to her, closing the door behind him. "Evan, this is amazing! It's all amazing!"

Evan waved her off. "It's nothing really," he said offhandedly. "Only the best for you." Nonnie felt shivers go up and down her spine at that.

The ride ended much too soon, in Nonnie's opinion. However, her opinion quickly changed as she was gracefully and swiftly led from her carriage into a brightly lit restaurant ablaze with fanciness and beauty. Nonnie sucked in a short, delighted breath, turning to her escort, face shining with joy. "Evan, this is _amazing!_"

Her only answer was a gracious smile as the two were quickly seated. Nonnie gawped curiously around, having never been in a restaurant fancier than the occasional McDonalds or Burger King.

Her blood sugar read a perfect 110.

Evan cocked his head at her. "What's that little device you keep looking at?" he questioned, passing her a menu.

"Oh, this?" Nonnie accepted it, blushing furiously. "I kinda have hypoglycemia, so I have to make sure my blood sugar doesn't get too low." She gave a small chuckle. "I kept getting it confused with _hyper_glycemia on the first day."

Evan gave a wan smile and moved in closer. "I really admire you," he softly declared. "To be able to handle such a thing with ease—you must be very strong."

"O-oh?" Nonnie squeaked, face hot and red as one of Romano's tomatoes. "I'm not _that_ strong, _really…_"

Evan only smiled at her and smoothly moved back as the waitress came to take their orders. "We'll both have the filet mignon."

_Filet mignon?_ Nonnie had no clue what it was, but the sound made her mouth water. She quickly took a sip of water, and nervously checked her blood sugar again.

"What's wrong?" Evan's silky voice cut through again.

_Too close, TOO FRIGGIN' CLOSE…_

"Oh, nothing…I just…I really don't have much experience in this, so if you could just…" Nonnie scooted a bit further from her date, nearly to the edge of the seat.

He didn't take the hint.

"Oh, I get it. You're warm. How about we eat outside?"

"I"—

"Waitress!" Evan was already rising from his seat. "My lady wishes to have a spot outside."

_B-but I hate the cold…_

"On the top balcony if you please."

Nonnie tried not to let out a small whine of disappointment. She'd wanted to stay in the cozy indoors. Nevertheless, she followed Evan up and up the stairs. _And really,_ she thought, _I should be grateful. I mean, I don't think I'll ever get a chance like this again._

…Unless Evan were to become her boyfriend…

Squashing down the mental _squee_, Nonnie quickly, if not a bit clumsily, sat down in the cold metal lump of a seat. She looked around, realizing that they were the only ones here. She shivered a little, and glanced up at Evan, whose face was calm, serene even, as he looked out over the blinking lights of the city. "Great view, isn't it?"

"Y-yeah," Nonnie rubbed the goose bumps on her arms away. "Lovely. Listen, Evan—"

'The stars are really pretty tonight. They remind me of you."

"Really…" Nonnie felt like melting again as she stared wanly up at the glowing pinpricks of light scattered across the dark blanket.

And Nonnie kept staring at the beautiful stars as she fell through the air softly, her frilly pink camisole spreading around her like a blossom, her cheeks flushed.

And then they grabbed her.

Evan watched from above, face stony. Then he took out his walkie-talkie, and muttered, "Subject has been captured. Report to Father's headquarters."


End file.
